ind her like an iron rod to absorb the onward impulses of
the eager throng. A rustling groan ran through these enthusiasts as
they saw the preliminary footage of the great Tarzan flash onto the
screen, and realized they were missing something. At last, however,
the trio got through the barrier and found three seats well in front,
at one side. From this angle the flying pictures were strangely
distorted, but Aubrey did not mind.

"Isn't it lucky I got here when I did," whispered Titania. "Mr.
Mifflin has just had a telephone call from Philadelphia asking him to
go over on Monday to make an estimate on a library that's going to be
sold so I'll be able to look after the shop for him while he's gone."

"Is that so?" said Aubrey. "Well, now, I've got to be in Brooklyn on
Monday, on business. Maybe Mrs. Mifflin would let me come in and buy
some books from you."

"Customers always welcome," said Mrs. Mifflin.

"I've taken a fancy to that Cromwell book," said Aubrey. "What do you
suppose Mr. Mifflin would sell it for?"

"I think that book must be valuable," said Titania. "Somebody came in
this afternoon and wanted to buy it, but Mr. Mifflin wouldn't part with
it. He says it's one of his favourites. Gracious, what a weird film
this is!"

The fantastic absurdities of Tarzan proceeded on the screen, tearing
celluloid passions to tatters, but Aubrey found the strong man of the
jungle coming almost too close to his own imperious instincts. Was not
he, too--he thought naively--a poor Tarzan of the advertising jungle,
lost among the elephants and alligators of commerce, and sighing for
this dainty and unattainable vision of girlhood that had burst upon his
burning gaze! He stole a perilous side-glance at her profile, and saw
the racing flicker of the screen reflected in tiny spangles of light
that danced in her eyes. He was even so unknowing as to imagine that
she was not aware of his contemplation. And then the lights went up.

"What nonsense, wasn't it?" said Titania. "I'm so glad it's over! I
was quite afraid one of those elephants would walk off the screen and
tread on us."

"I never can understand," said Helen, "why they don't film some of the
really good books--think of Frank Stockton's stuff, how delightful that
would be. Can't you imagine Mr. and Mrs. Drew playing in Rudder
Grange!"

"Thank goodness!" said Titania. "Since I entered the book business,
that's the first time anybody's mentioned a book